


When Tomorrow Comes - The Secret History of Neal Caffrey

by elrhiarhodan



Series: The Secret History of Neal Caffrey [9]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Eggsy Unwin Needs a Hug, Eggsy-Roxanne Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Harry Hart is Dead (still), Implied Relationships, M/M, Mention of Peter Burke, Merlin as Arthur, Merlin is a Little Shit (Kingsman), Neal Caffrey Is Still Stealing Things, Non-Canon Compliant to The Golden Circle, Past Neal Caffrey/Harry Hart, Spoilers for White Collar Season 6, This Explains Neal Caffrey and is extraordinary and amazing skills, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Picking up immediately afterSimply Irresistible, Merlin has everyone dancing through hoops,  Neal gets an unpleasant surprise at the shop, and Eggsy's not so thrilled, either.  Roxanne is as awesome as always.  But at the end of the day, Neal Caffrey is going to be Tristan, and that's all that matters, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for taking so long to get this story out of my head and onto the page. I really didn't expect it to take thirteen months to write this, but 2018 has been a truly terrible year for me and I'm glad it's coming to an end.
> 
> The story is complete but lengthy (these fics just get longer and longer), so it's posting in chapters. And while I've tried to reference as much of the previous stories in the series, it will probably make more sense if you've read them all, especially [A Seat at the Table](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371088) and [Simply Irresistible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737298).

It's four AM and Merlin is waiting in the hanger for a Kingsman jet to come to a full stop. Kay had conveniently wrapped up his mission in Helsinki and asked for an expedited trip home. Usually, such requests are met with a ticket on the next RyanAir flight, but Kingsman had a small Learjet on the tarmac in Saint Petersburg, a little less than an hour's flight time away, and Merlin sent it to fetch his agent and bring him home. He's usually not so generous with his pilot's time or his stock of jet fuel, but he needs a favor from Kay – and only Kay – so he figures that he'll bury the expense in the budget for overhead.

One of the very few benefits of being both Arthur _and_ Merlin.

Ground techs put the wheel chucks in place and the door drops. Soon enough, Kay appears, looking as fresh as a fucking daisy. Which isn't surprising; the assignment in Helsinki had been something of a cakewalk. Kay had been tasked with getting close to a cabinet minister's hot young wife, close enough to get invited to a party or two, and perhaps even into a bedroom. The lady had fallen for Kay's silver fox charms and brought him home for an evening of board games and intellectual discussions - of the naked and horizontal kind.

Last night, Kay had fucked the woman stupid, planted a dozen bugs throughout the house, and then made his farewells. All in all, a job well done.

As Kay steps off the jet, Merlin says, "Good work, Agent."

"Thank you, Arthur." Kay checks his watch and grimaces. "I must say, it's not your usual modus operandi to greet returning agents, especially those coming in at four in the morning." Kay pauses as he gets to the end of the staircase. "Unless there's a problem. Is there a problem?"

"No." Merlin waits for Kay to approach. "I need a favor, and it's rather time sensitive."

"Oh?" Kay looks first relieved, then curious. "What can I do for you?"

Merlin starts walking towards the exit and Kay falls into step next to him. "I know it's late and ye'd like to get home and sleep, but it would please me if you would to go to the shop tomorrow morning and greet our newest knight."

Kay stops. "You mean Neal Caffrey."

Merlin turns back to face Kay. "I do."

Kay grins. "You are an evil man, Arthur. And I mean that with the sincerest of affection. An evil, evil man."

Merlin tilts his head to acknowledge the compliment. "Ye don't mind? I asked Caffrey to be here at noon, so ye'll have to be at the shop around eleven-thirty."

"I'll bunk down here for a few hours, get into London at ten. I have a few new suits that need a final fitting, so might as well get that done while I have a little downtime."

Merlin wants to tell Kay that he should make his tailoring appointment for another day, his first encounter with Caffrey is too important to screw up. But Merlin doesn't, it would be insulting. Kay is the most experienced agent left in Kingsman, and unlike the late Galahad, he has excellent time management skills. 

"Ye will, of course, give Caffrey yer real name."

Kay nods, understanding just what Merlin wants and why. "Although Alan has never behaved like a Woodford, he certainly looks like one. I have no doubt that Caffrey will notice the resemblance. I will, however, make certain that he knows just who I am when he remarks on it."

Merlin isn't so certain that Neal will take that bait. "Don't count on Caffrey to call out the obvious; he holds his cards very close to the vest. He might very well notice the resemblance, but he may not say anything. Don't forget, Caffrey had once been a world class poker player on the international tournament circuit. He didn't get there by playing the obvious hand."

Kay shrugs, "If you say so. I'll just introduce myself as Stephen Woodford and let it go from there. How long should I let him hang, thinking I'm upset that he had been instrumental in sending Alan to prison?"

"No need for those kinds of head games. In fact, ye can tell him how ye feel about Alan. I just want Caffrey a little off kilter for a bit, that formidable intellect misdirected for a while, and ye're just the man for that task."

"I am yours to command, Arthur."

"Thank ye. I - and Kingsman - appreciate yer loyalty." Those words are slightly sour on Merlin's tongue. Nearly eight months sitting at the head of the Table, Merlin still can't get used to that title. But rather than whine about it, he accepts that he has no choice and moves forward.

They come to Kay's quarters and Merlin bids the man a good rest. He probably should get some sleep, too. But there are some missions to plan, a stack of reports from R&D to read, budgets to review. Sleep is a luxury he can't quite afford at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Neal can't sleep and gives up a bit before dawn. As he showers, he remembers other first days and the sleepless nights before. He'd been sixteen, desperate to earn enough cash to get him out of St. Louis, and had taken a job at a local burger joint. His shift had started at noon, but he'd arrived at ten AM, ready and raring to go. Then there was the Adler job. While Neal never had trouble sleeping the night before a con, working for Adler had been a real job, and despite the bottle of wine (or two or three) that he'd shared with Mozzie to celebrate the success of their plan, Neal had spent the night tossing and turning.

Then, of course, there had been the job that should have ended all jobs, working for Peter at the FBI. That first morning, Neal might have had breakfast on the terrace and then sauntered down the stairs, dressed to the nines in vintage bespoke Devore, taunting Peter about Italian roast and showing off with the hat, but that had been as much of an act as any con he'd ever pulled. He hadn't slept a wink, despite the excellent mattress and the first night of privacy he'd had in nearly four years. Instead, he'd obsessively read every word in the stack of files Peter had dumped on him, so he'd know more about the Dutchman than even Peter Burke himself.

Today, like that long-ago morning, Neal pulls out all of the stops to disguise his anxiety. This time it's not vintage Devore, but custom-tailored Armani. When he'd left New York, he'd left everything behind; not just the friends who'd been closer than family, but the suits and the hats, too – so many of the things that had made him Neal Caffrey, the FBI's pet con man. June had offered to ship them out to him after a reasonable amount of time had passed, but Neal had declined. As much as leaving Peter and Elizabeth and everyone else behind had broken his heart, he'd needed to make a clean break. And it's not as if he'd lacked for funds. Being in Europe had given him access to resources he'd hadn't been able to touch in years – safety deposit boxes containing piles of cash, enough to set him up in business and give him a few well-deserved luxuries.

Like this morning's hand-tailored Armani, and today might just be one of the last times he'll get wear it. He is, after all, working for an agency fronted by one of the finest tailors in the world. If he remembers what he'd been told during his candidate days correctly, as a fully-fledged agent, he'll get eight suits to start with and four new ones a year. If he wants more, he'll have to pay for them. Unless he gets stabbed or shot and the suit is damaged - very real possibilities in this job - then he gets replacements free of charge.

According to an early morning text from Merlin, he's supposed to be at the tailors by eleven-thirty. Agent Kay will meet him and take him down to the bullet train. Andrew, who manages the shop, will introduce them. 

Neal putters around his apartment – it's still too early to head out, even if he hoofs it from Bloomsbury to Savile Row. And the puttering makes him more nervous. He makes another cup of coffee - his third since six AM, and tries to relax. There's a bow window in the front room of the flat, overlooking Russell Square. He watches the well-dressed and well-to-do stroll through the park and tries not to remember all of the times that business - his own, the FBI's - took him through so many of New York's beautiful green spaces. Grief is like a rising tide, grief for Mozzie - lost to the violence he'd abhorred, grief for Peter - for the family he'd lost, for Elizabeth and her loss, for his namesake - so traumatized that he can't bear the sight of his own father. 

Maybe he should tell Merlin that he's calling this off; that he doesn't want to be a Kingsman anymore. Maybe he should get on an airplane and go home, reinsert himself into Peter's life, whether Peter wants it or not.

But even as the thought forms, Neal knows he won't do that; it'll never be what it had once been. In the time since that last con, Neal's come to understand that so much of the attraction that life had held had been the risks he'd run, the living a life-on-the-edge, doing his own thing and helping Peter look good at the same time. But Peter's in D.C. now, he's an Assistant Director and never goes out in the field. Neal has nothing to offer a man bound to a desk by choice, nothing except love and loyalty and friendship, but Peter has made it clear he wants none of those things anymore. If he goes, he'll have nothing, and he'll likely end up back in prison or dead.

No, he'll become a Kingsman and spend the rest of his life trying to save the world. He'll have Merlin in his corner, who'll be far more understanding of Neal's preference for the con. After all, Kingsman is a spy agency, and Kingsman agents not only have a license to kill, they have a license to con. 

Neal does his best to quell the anxiety, telling himself that this is just first-day jitters, no different from starting work at McDonalds or the Adler Group or the FBI. He drains the coffee cup and checks the time. It's a quarter to eleven and it will take him about twenty minutes to walk to Savile Row. Neal retrieves the two Bremonts and the wallet he'd lifted from his soon-to-be co-workers, checks his phone to make sure that Merlin hasn't changed anything, and heads out. 

The walk helps settle him and by the time he reaches Savile Row, Neal is confident he's made the right decision. Except there's the weight of two watches and a wallet in his pocket and that's going to have to be dealt with before he makes his oath. Merlin has a bit of explaining to do, setting two agents on him like that, people he'll be working with, people who'll he'll expect to have to have his back. And he's just humiliated them.

_Great._

The tailor shop is almost unchanged from his original introduction to Kingsman a dozen years ago. The suits on display are slightly different than the ones from his last visit, changed to reflect updated tastes in lapel sizes, shoulder construction, and button placement, but not _that_ different. Kingsman is, after all, an institution steeped in tradition.

And in keeping with stability and tradition, the ancient gentleman behind the counter is a familiar face. 

"Mr. Caffrey, welcome back to Kingsman. Arthur mentioned that you'd be stopping in." 

Neal holds out his hand. "Andrew, isn't it?"

The man grins and takes Neal's hand. "It's been at least a dozen years, but you've remembered my name. I am flattered, sir."

"I'm honored that you remember me." They'd met just once and very briefly, when Harry had brought him to the shop. Even though the store itself had been closed, Andrew had been at work behind the counter and Harry, ever the gentleman, had introduced Neal to the head tailor. Although it had been well after hours, Andrew had offered to take Neal's measurements and consult on a suit. Harry had laughed and said, "Maybe in a few months," before taking him into Fitting Room One.

"I believe you are waiting for someone?"

Neal has no doubt that Andrew knows he's waiting for Kay. "I am."

"If you'd like a cup of coffee or tea, I'll be happy to have it brought out to you."

Neal doesn't think that a fourth dose of caffeine in as many hours would be a good idea and politely declines. "I'd like to look at your ties while I'm waiting."

"That is a very fine Countess Mara you have on, and I believe that Kingsman can offer you something that will meet your good taste and high standards." 

Andrew takes him over to the display of incidentals – pocket squares, suspenders, and of course, neckwear of various kinds. There's an orange silk cravat in the drawer that brings back many good memories of Mozzie and his mildly stalkerish tendencies, of the girl in the coffee shop who'd loved books, puzzles and bald men in equal measure.

"Perhaps you will find this suitable?" Andrew unlocks another drawer and reveals dozens of identical ties – blue with red and white stripes. The tailor takes one out and holds it up against Neal's torso.

Neal doesn't particularly like the tie – it's boring and unimaginative – but Andrew is showing it to him for a reason. "Do you think it will go with this suit?"

"Hmm. Armani Made to Measure, no?" Andrew gives him a head-to-toe look.

"Of course." Neal knows that this suit, custom-made from an established pattern, is as far from bespoke tailoring as a hand-build Ferrari is from a coach-built roadster. The Armani is nothing to sneeze at, but it's not in the same class as a suit from a Savile Row tailor.

"This tie might be a bit conservative for what you are wearing, but perhaps you'll come back soon and let us measure you for a Kingsman suit."

"That would be … delightful."

From behind him, Neal hears a door open; Andrew puts away the tie and locks the drawer before turning to face the customer leaving Fitting Room Three. "I trust that your fitting was successful, sir."

"Yes, it was as perfect as always, Andrew. Michael has done an excellent job."

Out of curiosity, Neal looks at the customer and gets quite a shock. It's Alan Woodford, but well-aged by at least a decade, maybe more. Neal knows that there is no why that the head of the Pink Panthers could be in a London tailor shop. No one has ever escaped from the ADX Florence penitentiary, the Federal supermax prison in the Colorado Rockies.

Woodford is British, so perhaps this man is a family member. Neal hopes not, and then realizes it wouldn't matter. Some random relation would have no reason to connect him – technically a dead man – to the agent of Alan Woodford's demise as a criminal kingpin.

Except that Andrew does the unthinkable and introduces them. "Sir, I believe that Arthur thought you might be interested in meeting a new client of Kingsman. Please allow me to introduce you to Neal Caffrey."

The Alan Woodford lookalike holds out his hand. "Yes, Arthur did mention that I should make myself known to Mr. Caffrey, that we might both profit from the introduction."

Neal takes the man's hand. "Perhaps, but I don't believe I've caught your name." Neal employs the iciest of tones, his Received Pronunciation as clipped and brittle as a cut glass goblet.

"That's because I haven't given it to you."

Neal hears an echo of his own voice in those words. And then something hits him, Andrew had said that _Arthur_ thought that they'd both benefit from an introduction. _Fucking Merlin and his head games._ "Kay?"

That earns him a surprised and appreciative look. "Arthur did say you are smart. And if you know anything about Arthur, you know how much he likes smart. Much more than he likes pretty, which you certainly are, too."

Despite the words, there's nothing overtly salacious in Kay's comment. And it is kind of strange, but Neal can't remember the last time someone had commented on his looks - not since he'd left New York, at the very least. There's something mischievous in this agent's smile, in the twinkle in his eye, like he knows a secret; the expression does quite a lot to erase any similarities to Alan Woodford, thank god. "I probably should say thank you for the compliments, but that might become awkward."

"It would, definitely." Kay's smile gets just a touch broader. "Arthur is expecting us, shall we?"

Neal might never get used to thinking of Merlin as Arthur, but it's not like he has a choice in the matter. Kingsman has its traditions and one disrespects them at one's peril. "Lead the way."

Kay takes him into Fitting Room One and presses his hand against the mirror. The whole room begins its descent. Neal understands the physics, but it doesn't make the long slow trip any less annoying. He stifles a sigh, not wishing to betray any of his feelings.

"It's a royal pain in the ass, especially when you're in a rush," Kay comments.

"I hope there's an emergency staircase, because if there's trouble in the shop, everyone will be dead before help can arrive."

Kay looks at Neal and shakes his head. "Like I said, smart and pretty. You'll go far in Kingsman."

"Thank you." 

The lift reaches the ground and Kay takes him to the train. "This has been upgraded since your last visit - it's mag-lev now, and goes about as fast as the Shinkansen does between Osaka and Hiroshima."

"Impressive." Neal had taken that bullet train more than once and had always enjoyed the speed. During his time with the FBI, Neal had frequently been annoyed that his nine-mile, hour-long subway commute from Riverside Heights to Lower Manhattan took only slightly less time than it took to go more than two hundred miles between two major Japanese cities.

The train takes off and Neal relaxes against the seat, never taking his eyes off Kay. It really is unnerving how much he looks like Alan Woodford.

"By the way, I'm Stephen. Stephen Woodford."

Neal does his best not to let anything show, but he feels that he's failed miserably. 

"Alan's my brother."

Neal wants to disappear.

And then he doesn't. The other man smiles and says, "Thank you."

Neal is, to put it mildly, confused. "For what?"

"For being willing to die to put that son of a bitch away - no insult to my mother intended."

"Huh? You're not angry that I'm the reason why your brother is serving a life sentence in solitary confinement?"

Kay - Stephen - sighs. "Alan had been a conniver, a schemer, an all-around nightmare since he was an infant in the cradle. But he was smart and creative and when the time came, I proposed him as a candidate for the Lancelot slot. He made it through all of the trials, except the next-to-last one. Do you remember that test?"

Neal doesn't have to strain his memory to remember waking up from a drugged sleep, tied to railroad tracks. "The loyalty test."

"The train was barely in the tunnel when Alan pissed himself and gave it up - everyone and everything. He was escorted off the premises and the next day, he formed his first criminal gang. Within a month, he'd robbed four banks. Alan used everything we'd taught him; he'd perverted what it means to be a Kingsman agent. And no matter how many resources we'd committed to bringing him down, we couldn't even get close. He knew the playbook, he knew just how we'd come for him, and Arthur hadn't been willing to sacrifice anyone to redeem my folly."

"I'm sorry." Neal means it.

"For what?"

"That you lost your brother like that."

Kay opens his mouth, about to say something, then thinks better of it, then changes his mind again. "We had never been close. Not only had Alan been a horror as a child, I've got fifteen years on him. And honestly, I'm glad he's going to spend the rest of his life in a cement cage. Death would have been too kind for him."

Neal can't imagine hating a family member that much no matter what the reason. Even when Neal had thought his father had been a murderer, even when James had betrayed him in the end, Neal couldn't help but love the bastard. 

"So again, thank you for taking out the Woodford's family trash."

Feeling particularly brave, Neal adds, "Kingsman's trash, too. I know that Kingsman doesn't kill failed candidates, but you have to think that someone who fails the loyalty test is always going to be a liability."

Kay laughs. "And considering that the sole threat that's made to anyone who breaks confidentiality is to end up in a body bag, along with their next of kin - and Alan's next of kin are the parents of an active agent, well, it's kind of impossible to enforce."

"Harry had told me that a Kingsman only takes a life to save another, and Merlin's little speech never seemed like anything more than an attempt to weed out those with weak bladders, so I really didn't believe that Kingsman would actually kill the next of kin."

"Arthur - excuse me, Merlin - likes to terrify the cadets, but you're right. Kingsman would never follow through on that threat, if just because too many of the candidates are relatives to existing agents."

Neal wants to dig a little deeper into this strange family dynamic. "Can you satisfy my curiosity?"

"About what?"

"Alan. You weren't exactly complimentary about him as a brother, so why did you propose him as a candidate."

Kay shakes his head. "I'd had the misguided belief that perhaps training might make a man of him, cure him of his felonious ways."

"It doesn't usually work like that." Neal knows that from experience. Punishment never works, but attach the right kind of carrot to the stick and even the most dedicated con could become a man. 

Neal lets the conversation die; Kay's given him too much to think about. This whole business with Alan Woodford and the Pink Panthers is really ancient history and Neal shouldn't be wasting time even thinking about it. He's got two watches and a wallet that need to be returned to their owners, and get a rather powerful man to apologize for his part in their theft. Then Neal realizes just why Merlin sent Kay to escort him to headquarters. He wants Neal off-balance and preoccupied with something that doesn't matter.

Better men have tried and failed to do that. Merlin's going to be in for a big surprise.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy and Roxy finally get to meet Neal Caffrey, soon-to-be Agent Tristan. It does not go well. Merlin, however, is having far too good of a time.

Eggsy isn't looking forward to what he's got to do. No, sir. Not one bit. He's got to tell Arthur that he's responsible for the loss of a specially equipped Bremont, a wallet filled with cash and a Kingsman-produced driver's license and credit cards, not to mention one very expensive tracking device. That Roxy lost her Bremont and another tracking device doesn't matter. It's Eggsy's fault and he's got to own up to it.

"It's not your fault, Eggs." Roxy falls into step beside him as they travel through HQ. 

"How do ya figure on that, Rox?"

"I was the one who created the plan, who wanted to do this as a honeypot. Maybe if I'd exercised some self-control, we might have actually been in control of the mission."

Eggsy disagrees. "No, Deschanel played us from the start. I think he got suspicious when I tried to get to his phone."

"I'm not sure about that - but it's almost beside the point. We've lost some expensive and dangerous tech and Arthur's probably going hand us our asses." Roxy makes a sour, disgusted face. "We're such idiots."

Eggsy knows he'll get his ass handed to him, and he'll do everything he can to keep Merlin from tearing a strip off of Roxy. "Just follow my lead, Roxalot. I've got ya covered."

Roxy looks like she's about to argue with him, but she doesn't get a chance. Merlin - or rather Arthur, since he's in a Kingsman suit - is walking towards them. "Ah, my favorite ducklings. What brings the both of ye to HQ on yer day off? The Tristan investment is not until four."

Eggsy steps up and doesn't hide that there's trouble. "We need to talk; can we go in your office?"

Arthur nods, but there's a disconcerting twinkle in his eye. "Certainly."

Arthur tells Elaine, his assistant, that he's not to be disturbed until Neal Caffrey arrives, and gestures for him and Roxy to go into his inner office, the one where another Arthur had asked Eggsy to shoot tiny, defenseless JB. It's an imposing space, designed for someone to hold court, rather than work. Eggsy will never feel comfortable in here, especially when he's not about to own up to a potentially career-ending mistake. 

"Take a seat." 

"We'd prefer to stand." Eggsy looks at Roxy for confirmation and she nods. 

Arthur sits in one of the arm chairs, crosses his legs and says, "All right, then. Tell me what's on yer mind."

Eggsy's actually glad that he's talking to Arthur, not Merlin. He doesn't really _know_ Arthur, other than as a man who authorizes their missions and looks too fucking intimidating in a Kingsman suit. Merlin is a friend, someone he cares about, someone whose opinion matters to Eggsy at a personal level. Disappointing Arthur is a professional thing; disappointing Merlin is far too emotionally compromising.

"It's about the Deschanel op last night." Eggsy pauses, collects his thoughts, and finally confesses. "I screwed up and it went tits up."

Arthur shrugs. "Ye already told me ye couldn't get to Deschanel's phone and I said ye that it was all right. Getting his data had been a long shot that I thought might play out, but it didn't. No harm, no foul."

Eggsy bites his lip and corrects Arthur. "No, sir. That's really not the problem."

"Then what is, Agent?" It's strange, but Arthur sounds expectant, rather than concerned.

"Deschanel managed to steal my watch and my wallet, and when I was distracted, he relieved Lancelot of her Bremont, too. And I'd put a tracker on him, but we couldn't follow because the tracking tech is in the watch." Before Arthur can start dressing him down, Eggsy falls on his sword to save Roxy any grief, "I'd come up with the plan, I had made the first contact with Deschanel. Lancelot was backing my play, so I'm responsible for the loss of the tech and the identification."

Roxy glares at Eggsy, but Eggsy's relieved that she doesn't contradict him.

"Do ye have anything to add, Lancelot?"

Roxy's standing so straight that Eggsy wonders how her spine doesn't shatter. "I have a lot to add, sir. Agent Galahad is overstating his role in planning the mission. It had been my idea to set this up as a honeypot. He should not be blamed for the loss of the tech. I allowed myself to become distracted and the failure is on me."

Eggsy wants to strangle Roxy. "Arthur, sir - Lancelot is covering for me. She's not to blame."

Arthur leans forward; the table lamp reflecting on his eyeglasses makes him look a bit alien. "Let me get this straight, Galahad – ye think this is yer fault, because ye planned the mission and became distracted and let Deschanel take yer wallet and both of yer watches and walk off with two Kingsman trackers. And yet, Lancelot is claiming responsibility because she was the one who'd done the planning and became distracted, letting Deschanel take yer watches and the wallet and the trackers. Now, it's possible that both of ye planned the mission and Deschanel got the better of both of ye. But if yer saying that only one of ye is responsible and the other is blameless, then one of ye is lying."

Eggsy, once again, jumps to Roxy's defense. "My plan, my mistake. I'm responsible for the loss of the tech. Lancelot should not be disciplined for what happened."

"Sir, Eggsy's lying. It was my plan and my mistake. Galahad had been following my lead. He's not responsible and should not be sanctioned."

Eggsy continues to argue with Roxy, "Not possible, I arrived at the meeting point first, I was the one who engaged with Deschanel first. I must have tipped him off."

Arthur sighs. "Yer loyalty to each other is commendable - and appreciated. But ye should have sorted out yer story before coming to see me."

Eggsy glares at Roxy and she glares back, but before either of them can start arguing again, Merlin's assistant interrupts.

"Mr. Caffrey is here, sir. Shall I have him wait until you are finished?"

Arthur smiles and Eggsy gets a chill down his spine. The last time he'd seen that look, Eggsy just had a strope about being the expendable one, the one without the parachute. Merlin had looked at him like he could chew him up and spit him out, then pulled the cord on his parachute, sending Eggsy sailing across the lawn. He wonders what the incoming Agent Tristan has done to deserve such a look.

"No, no need for him to wait. Please bring him in." Arthur refocuses on Eggsy and Roxy. "I'm eager to introduce you - I think you'll find Neal Caffrey to be a fascinating addition to the Table."

Eggsy's pretty sure that a felon who'd once worked for the FBI will certainly be a "fascinating addition" to Kingman, but he's not all that eager to meet one of Harry's former lovers. However, it looks like he's not being given a choice. Elaine leaves and comes back with the man about to be made Agent Tristan, and Eggsy is about to explode.

It's their mark from last night, George Deschanel, who apparently is Neal Caffrey.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Merlin had expected to enjoy watching Eggsy and Roxy come face to face with Caffrey and vice-versa, but he hadn't expected to enjoy it quite this much. Eggsy and Roxy, newly minted spies, can't keep the shock off their faces and Merlin's willing to chalk that up to the location. It's Arthur's office at HQ and they aren't expecting an attack of any sorts to come in such an ostensibly safe space, although Eggsy has personal experience with just how dangerous an Arthur can be.

Caffrey isn't shocked or surprised; he walks in with barely hidden anger. He sees the ducklings, but there's no shock there, more concern and a touch of shame that quickly disappears. This is going to be good. Almost as good as watching Eggsy switch the brandy glasses and seeing Chester choke to death on his own poison.

"Welcome back to Kingsman, Neal." Merlin stands up and offers Caffrey his hand. Caffrey stares at the appendage like it's a poison snake. Merlin sits back down and idly wonders what gentleman's rule Harry would have come up with to chide Caffrey about the display of bad manners.

Caffrey doesn't say anything and his silence becomes a bit disconcerting - at least for the ducklings, who shift and stare and look confused.

"You're a real piece of work, Merlin." Finally Caffrey speaks.

Merlin does his best to keep a straight face. This is going to be so good. "Remember what I told ye, lad, all those years ago? About what to do if ye have a complaint?"

Caffrey's expression twists and turns ugly - which should be impossible on such a beautiful face - and Merlin wonders if he's just crossed a line. But then Caffrey's expression smooths out and he takes a few steps closer. As he leans over Merlin, hands braced against the arms of the chair, Merlin hears both of his agents draw their weapons.

Before he can tell them to stand down, Caffrey answers his question. "Of course I remember - if I have a complaint, I'm supposed to whisper it in your ear. And I most certainly do have a complaint."

"What is it, lad?" Merlin has a feeling he knows just what Caffrey's about to say, and it's not going to be pleasant.

"You're a fucking asshole." Caffrey whispers, but it's loud enough for the ducklings to hear, judging by Eggsy's gasp. Caffrey stands up but doesn't move away. "You are a piece of work, to do what you did last night."

"I had my reasons." Merlin had never thought Neal Caffrey could instill even the slightest drop of fear in him, he didn't think the lad had the stones for it. But he's clearly underestimated the man and what he could do if pushed. Merlin's a little abashed when he remembers own research, and the particular tidbit about how Caffrey had hunted down a former FBI agent in a public museum with a sword and a gun.

"Tell your agents to put their guns away. I have no intention of hurting you." Caffrey stares at him and Merlin finds that gaze as compelling and unbreakable as a raptor's as it's stooping down for the kill.

Merlin doesn't say anything, but finds it worrisome that both Eggsy and Roxy holster their weapons. 

Neal laughs and steps back. "What you did was really shitty."

_Ah, now we get to see just what Neal Caffrey's made of._ Merlin had engineered everything to come to this moment. He is going to spin this out, for himself and for the watching ducklings. "Why do ye say that? Just because I didn't show up last night?"

Neal looks over at the ducklings, who are still dumbfounded. "No, because you sent two of your agents into a situation they weren't prepared for."

"I gave them everything that was available on George Deschanel."

"Who didn't exist until two years ago. Who's lived an exemplary and rather boring life. Setting your dogs on Deschanel was a worthless test."

Merlin shrugs as he adds, "I might have invented a tidbit of information. Something that would lead them to believe that Georgie-boy was something more than just a mild-mannered security expert. And it's up to me to decide what is and is not worthless."

Now he's got Caffrey's curiosity engaged. "What did you tell them?"

Merlin looks over at Roxy and Eggsy and with a tilt of his head, lets them know they should speak. He's a little surprised that it's Eggsy, and not Roxy, who steps up to the plate. "Arthur gave us a mission file on you and there was some indication that you might be planning on robbing one of the museums you'd be hired to protect."

"First of all, George Deschanal – at least the fictional version that had been in your mission file – is not me. Secondly, Deschanel's handled a complete revamp of the Louvre's security systems, including penetration testing of the protections around the Mona Lisa. His record is spotless. I'm not sure what would lead anyone to think that he would be planning a heist."

_Ah, so the lad has pride in his work. He doesn't like that it's been stained._

Eggsy offers up a piece to the puzzle, "According to the dossier, Deschanel had been flagged as a risk because of a very recent email from a Gerard Dorsett, who's both a loan shark and an art thief. Although we thought it odd since Dorsett has no history of hitting museums, just small art galleries. I thought it was possible that Dorsett had been blackmailing Deschanel."

Caffrey shakes his head and laughs. "You really reached back for that. Gerard Dorsett – I haven't given him a thought in years. And no, he wouldn't have the stones to hit a museum. But you didn't do your homework. Had you investigated a little deeper, you'd have found that Dorsett had been stabbed to death six years ago during a prison riot. 

Eggsy actually glares at Merlin, and Merlin uses this as a teaching moment, "Ye shouldn't trust that the dossier's complete. Ye had the time to do yer own research, too." In truth, the only reason that he had pulled Dorsett's name off of the list of criminals Caffrey had helped put behind bars was because Dorsett was English. This last test had been a last-minute idea, and Merlin himself hadn't done the proper research. But he's certainly not telling Eggsy and Roxy that.

Eggsy finally fills in the mission parameters, "We were supposed to get your phone and clone it, to see if there were any other communications between you – excuse me – Deschanel and Dorsett. It was supposed to be a simple milk run, something to pass the time between bigger missions."

"I knew you were after my cellphone, but a word of advice - never let anyone take your phone out of your hands. It's a good way to let it get cloned. I'm guessing that the Quartermaster had outfitted you with some wireless tech to do just that."

"Of course – but it needs to be unlocked and within six inches of the reader to work properly. Basically, I've got to be holding onto it." And suddenly, Eggsy looks chagrined. "Don't tell me that your charging device sucked the data out of mine."

"It did, and you have quite a library of porn there."

"Blame the quartermaster's office - they're the ones who issued it to me. Never take my own on a mission - even a milk run." Both men look at Merlin and Merlin shrugs. He'll have a discussion with his team about the porn when he has a free moment. Right now, it's not relevant and he needs to retake control of the situation.

"Ye came in here all hot under the collar, Neal, but I'm still not sure why ye're so upset. The way I'm seeing it, ye knew who ye were dealing with, but ye still helped yerself to their watches."

"That's the thing, Merlin - "

"Arthur. When I'm in here, like this, ye'll call me Arthur, please and thank you very much."

Caffrey nods, "Arthur. The thing is, I didn't know who they were. I'd been annoyed when you didn't show and hadn't bothered to send word. I was about to leave when Eddie Upton approached me, and it seemed kind of obvious that it wasn't some random encounter. I thought I'd see where it was going"

Eggsy's now the one who's a little insulted. "Why not? What gave me away?"

"The cut of your suit, your choice of tie, and most of all, your posture - " Caffrey grimaces. "You wanted to look like a City banker, but I wasn't buying it. You're too young for such a conservative wardrobe. The suit, by the way, is gorgeous, but few City bankers in their twenties would go for Savile Row bespoke unless their father owned the bank."

"He could have," Eggsy replies.

"No, there'd been nothing about your stance that suggested you'd gotten your position through family connections. Everything about you screamed self-made man. You weren't arrogant enough to come from inherited wealth. You'd need to be more of an asshole. You'd have chewed out the bartender for the crappy martini and threatened his livelihood and intelligence in a loud and lengthy diatribe. All for a badly made drink." 

Eggsy looks thoughtful, like he's storing away that information for future use. Merlin wonders if he can convince Neal that his first six months as a Kingsman should be spent training the new recruits.

Roxy speaks up for the first time. "What gave me away?"

"Your glasses. You had been as expensively dressed as your coworker, your hair and makeup was flawless, but you were wearing seriously ugly no-name eyeglasses. Which, by the way, you didn't need. Something that's obvious to anyone who knows to look."

Merlin wishes all of the after-action reports could be this entertaining. "Ye must have run rings around yer handlers at the FBI."

Neal sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "They weren't stupid."

"Nor are we, and what ye've told us is valuable. But I'm still not sure why ye're so angry."

"I'd figured when Eddie here approached that you were giving me one last test. Ronnie's appearance in those ugly eyeglasses only confirmed it. I thought I'd play along and see where it led. What I hadn't expected was that you'd sent out actual Kingsman agents to test me."

Merlin's surprised. "Oh? Who did you think they were?"

"I'd honestly thought they were contractors."

Merlin hadn't even considered that. "What changed yer mind about them?"

"When I got back to my flat and looked at the watches." Neal reaches into his jacket and takes out the two Bremonts. "I'd thought the I-spy eyewear had been a little borderline over the top for contractors, but understandable in the circumstances - it had been a test and you wanted to observe. But no contractor would be kitted out with these. Amnesia darts, knockout darts, trackers - a rather interesting set of complications for Swiss-made timepieces." Neal hands the watches back to their owners. 

"And that's why yer angry? That I sent my agents to test ye?"

"I'm angry that you sent these two out on what they thought was a legitimate assignment and set them up so I'd take advantage of them. I'm angry because you've poisoned the well. You think they'll be able to trust me to have their backs now? That's why I'm so angry. You've just screwed your agents, and for what? To prove a point? That's not fair. How can they trust you now?" He turns to Eggsy and Roxy, "For what its worth, I'm sorry about last night. I thought you were trying to play me and my instinct had been to play back. I'm afraid I went a little overboard." He gives Eggsy the stolen wallet back.

Merlin lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. _This_ is what he's been waiting for. "Congratulations, Neal, and welcome to Kingsman. Ye just passed the last test." Merlin gets up and takes Neal's hand.

"What? What's going on?"

Merlin's relishing Neal's confusion. "I wasn't screwing with you - or with my other agents. The test had nothing to do with how you behaved last night, but everything to do with how you reacted today. Right now. In here."

Neal looks over at the ducklings, and they seem just as confused.

"Twelve years ago, ye refused to shoot yer dog. Ye thought it had been wrong and cruel. But twelve years - including four spent in prison - is a long time, and people change. I've spent a lot of time with ye the last few months and I've seen a lot of the Neal Caffrey I'd once known, but a lot that was new - and frankly, I didn't quite know what to make of ye."

"So, until now, my status was up in the air? You'd lied when you said everything was set?" Neal's angry again.

"Not in the least. No matter what happened just now, ye still would have become Tristan. This test - last night and today - was for my benefit. I'd always thought ye had the makings of a Kingsman, ye just provided me with objective proof of that yer a good man, too." 

Caffrey still looks pissed, but he'll get over it. 

"Let me introduce ye to two of yer colleagues - Galahad and Lancelot. It'll be up to them if they want to give you their names."

"So they aren't Eddie Upton and Ronnie Martin?" Neal sounds serious, but Merlin can tell he's laughing, now. The anger is gone for the moment.

"Oi, we know better than to give a mark our real names." Eggsy's feathers are a bit ruffled; whenever that happens, his accent slips back to South London. Merlin prefers it, he can't quite get used to Eggsy speaking with perfect Received Pronunciation. It doesn't sound quite right outside of mission parameters.

"I'd hope so. Which one of you is Lancelot, and which one is Galahad?"

Roxy steps up, "I'm Roxanne Morton and Lancelot. But call me Roxy if we're not on mission. And also, thank you for the intel about the glasses. I've complained about the styling to R&D, but they've ignored me. If you have a chance, maybe you'd like to come with me when I pay a visit to the nerds in the basement."

"Ye've never mentioned that to me, Lancelot." This is the first Merlin's hearing about the problem. "And I'm concerned that my staff is blowing ye off."

"I didn't want to bother you, Arthur. And I can deal with the neckbeards and the nerd bros in my own way, including snapping a few necks if I have to."

"I'd appreciate if ye didn't murder too many of my staff."

"Only have to kill one to make an example. But with Tristan to give a man's point of view, I'll only have to administer a beat down instead of homicide."

Merlin isn't sure if Lancelot's joking, but if his people in R&D are ignoring her, at the cost of mission security, then one - or more of them - needs to die. "I'll follow up after ye've made yer point. But if ye spill any blood on a prototype, yer not going to be happy."

"Understood, sir."

If he'd been talking to Eggsy, that might be a worry - the lad tends to like quick and dirty, much like his late mentor - although he does tend to clean up his own messes. Roxanne, on the other hand, is a bit more precise with her kills, and conversely, has no issues calling for cleanup. Merlin wonders what Neal will be like, once he gets over his squeamishness. 

Neal looks just a trifle cowed when he shakes Roxy's hand. "It's a pleasure, Lancelot. And about last night - "

Roxy shakes her head. "Nothing to discuss, nothing to apologize for. We were doing our jobs - and you're very good at yours. Eggsy and I could use a few lessons, if you're willing."

"Eggsy?" Neal, like almost everyone else, has _that_ reaction to the lad's nickname.

"That'd be me. I'm Eggsy. Eggsy Unwin." Galahad's a bit chilly when he introduces himself. Merlin isn't surprised, considering how Neal had wrecked the lad last night.

Neal does the pretty and officially introduces himself. "And again, I'm sorry about what happened last night. Please let me know what I need to do to prove myself worthy of your trust."

_Oh, Caffrey's good at this. Those years under the FBI's thumb have taught him a few lessons in humility._ Merlin hopes Eggsy thaws to the man who'd played him so thoroughly. Caffrey can teach the lad a lot, and vice versa.

Eggsy does seem to warm up when he takes Neal's hand. "It's okay - you were only doing what comes naturally to you."

_Or maybe not._

"Ouch." Caffrey steps back. "Well, I guess you know all about me."

"Yeah, Arthur gave us the skinny on ya. World's greatest con man or something like that. Prison time, criminal consultant with the Feeb, ya pretended to die to escape them."

Neal frowns at Merlin. "I guess you really did give them the warts and all version of me."

Merlin doesn't give an inch. "I said I would."

Eggsy finally softens a bit towards Neal. "It seems that ya like jumping off of buildings a lot. We have that in common."

"Oh?"

"I do a bit of parkour. Could probably give ya a run for your money." 

There's a touch of bragging there, but the lad's earned the right to brag. Merlin wonders how Neal will react to having his ego poked.

Neal doesn't rise to the bait. "I'm always up for learning something new."

Merlin makes a show of checking the time. "Ye've still got a few hours before Tristan's investment. Galahad, why don't you show our newest member of the Table around HQ. Give him a full tour - particularly the areas he wouldn't have seen as a candidate. I need to go over some things with Lancelot in her after-action report on her last mission."

Eggsy gives him a bit of the stink-eye and Neal looks a little concerned, but the two of them need to get past what had happened. 

"Come on, I'll show ya around," Eggsy offers with grudging acceptance.

Merlin reminds Eggsy, "Bring him to the Boardroom by four, all right?"

"Yeah, fine."

As the two men leave the office, Merlin wonders how long it will take for Neal to charm his way past Eggsy's defenses. He figures the under/over will be between fifteen minutes and an hour at the most. They might even be best of friends by the time four PM rolls around.

Lancelot, who's still standing at parade rest, shakes her head.

"What's the matter?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Permission granted." Merlin's vaguely amused that Lancelot has adopted military mannerisms, even though she'd never served.

"Neal isn't wrong. That stunt you pulled last night was a really shitty thing to do. And this morning, before he came in, you let us sweat for nothing. You knew exactly what happened, you watched every minute of it."

Merlin heads over to the bar and pours them both a measure of Scotch, despite the earliness of the hour. He hands her a glass and offers an apology. "I'm sorry I put the two of ye in an uncomfortable position."

"You're not and we'll survive. And you'll do worse to us next week, or next month." Lancelot finally relaxes and takes a seat. "After all, you once made us believe we'd jumped out of an airplane without a parachute."

Merlin acknowledges the criticism with a nod of his head. "The testing can't really stop just yet, not for ye or Galahad. Or Tristan. Do ye understand why?"

"Because we're still so new? Because we need to get accustomed to all of the dirty tricks this life is going to throw at us?"

"Exactly." Merlin picks up his tablet. "Now, I really do have some questions about your report on the Greek shipping industry."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy is asked to show Neal around Kingsman HQ. Eggsy would rather be doing anything else, like eating glass.

Eggsy doesn't know who to be angry at, so he swallows his rage and acts like a good soldier, showing Neal-fucking-Caffrey all of the sights. Except he's not doing that good of a job, given that Caffrey keeps looking at him the way that JB had, when Eggsy had pointed a gun at him.

"Look, it's okay. I don't hold a grudge." Except that Eggsy _is_ holding a grudge and not just because Caffrey snogged the sense out of him as he lifted his wallet and watch. The snogging part is the least of it; it's that Eggsy's kind of prides himself on his light-fingered skill set. Last night, Neal Caffrey proved that Eggsy Unwin's little more than a heavy-handed novice.

And truth be told, Eggsy's not really angry about _that_. It's the whole damn situation. He had always thought he could trust Merlin never to steer him wrong, and last night was all about Merlin's manipulations. Merlin's the chess player, the one who moves the pieces around the board in subtle and unfathomable ways, taking dozens of moves before springing the trap. It's why he's the Quartermaster, the handler-in-chief, the alpha dog when it comes to mission planning and execution. He might be Arthur, too, but that's just an administrative role. Merlin's always been the one who's run Kingsman.

And to have the slightest feeling that Merlin doesn't have his back, that Merlin's using him for some ulterior motive, moving him around like a piece on the chess board, makes Eggsy queasy. So Caffrey's a convenient substitute for Eggsy's anger.

They're standing next to each other, staring at one of Kingsman's antique aircraft when Caffrey says, "I really am sorry about what happened."

Eggsy doesn’t want to get into it. "Look, it's okay. We was both doing our jobs. Crossed wires, that's all."

Caffrey sighs. "When you've convinced yourself of that, please let me know how you managed. I'm still working through it myself."

Eggsy looks at Caffrey. He knows the man is a highly superior con artist, but Eggsy's also an excellent judge of character when he's not running his own con – like last night – and he reads nothing but sincerity on Caffrey's face. He's angry, too. "Can't believe that Merlin pulled that 'ye have a complaint, come whisper it in my ear' shit with you, too."

"Yeah, ten seconds after we'd all jumped, Merlin says 'now, what if one of ye didna have a parachute?'. We'd buddied up at first, but most of the others pulled their chutes, convinced they wouldn't be the ones to go splat. Only me and my partner landed in tandem, when he pulled his cord at the minimum safe distance for terminal velocity. I was pissed and didn't bother to hide it. Got in Merlin's face about being the expendable American." 

"And that's when he told you to whisper in his ear." Eggsy is amused against his will. "I wonder how many trainees he's pulled that shit on. He did it to me when I got in his face about being the expendable one - the chav gets to go splat."

The friendly feeling lasts for a few moments, until Neal reminds Eggsy that he'd once had something that Eggsy still so wants so badly. _Harry_. "My mentor was unavailable for the final twenty-four hours, so I had the choice of spending the time with Lamorak, who hated Americans - or so I'd been told - or Merlin. I picked Merlin. He'd offered to answer any questions I had about Kingsman, so long as they weren't about the last test or about confidential matters. Or his real name."

Despite his jealousy - which now includes Merlin as well as Harry, Eggsy's curious. "What did ya ask him?"

"The only thing I could think of was about the parachute test. Didn't he think it possible that a candidate would become so frozen with fear that they'd never pull their chute cord and die? He'd told me that it's never happened in all of the years that they've done that test. There's been some pretty low openings, but none of the candidates failed to land safely. We'd been drinking a bit and he'd confessed that he'd borrowed the 'whisper your complaint in my ear' bit from his own candidate days, which he'd gotten in _his_ trainer's face for being the 'expendable Scotsman'."

"Huh. I guess like Harry's recipe for a martini, there's really nothing original in the world." Eggsy's now depressed as well as angry. It's not a good combination.

"Harry?"

"Yeah. Harry Hart. My mentor, who taught me how to make a proper martini. He was the one who proposed me for Kingsman."

"And mine. I was his candidate for the Tristan trials in '03."

"I know. Merlin told me that ya knew Harry well, before he proposed you as a candidate." Eggsy knows he sounds pissed off and frankly, he doesn't care if Caffrey hears the anger.

Caffrey doesn't say anything for a long, stretched out moment. "I wouldn't say that I knew Harry Hart at all. I didn't even know that was his real name until Merlin told me he was dead. An alias I'd used and an alias Harry had used had been casual friends, that's all. I don't know for sure, but I have the feeling that he'd proposed me for Kingsman just to piss Arthur and some of the other knights off."

Eggsy shoves his hands into his pockets, otherwise he'd deck Caffrey for talking about Harry like that. "I knew Harry better than ya did, I guess." Eggsy treasures the knowledge of Harry having incredible bedhead in the morning, his fussy decorating preferences, his peacock style of fighting. Things that the perfect Neal Caffrey knows nothing about. He wants to shove Neal's face in that knowledge, but he also gets the feeling that while Caffrey might have known Harry in the biblical sense, he has no interest in knowing the type of man Harry Hart had been outside of the bedroom.

"Come on, let me show you the library. It's filled with art and rare books and other shit ya'd probably like." 

Caffrey's response is a heavy-hearted sigh and Eggsy feels a little sorry for him. It's not like Caffrey could know that Eggsy's been carrying a torch for a dead man for almost a year.

"There's a lot of things I'll put up with, Galahad, but homophobia's not one of them. Not here, not anywhere." Caffrey tone is icy, as cold as Harry's had been in that last, horrible argument.

"What?" Eggsy has no idea why the man should be thinking that. "I ain't no homophobe."

"I beg to differ. We seemed to be working through our Merlin-induced differences until I mentioned that Harry and I - our aliases - had a relationship. It must be the self-loathing kind, since you did a pretty good job of giving me the come-on last night. Or are you that compartmentalized that you can bury your loathing for a mission?"

Eggsy is floored by the accusation. "Ya didn't say ya had a relationship. Ya said ya were 'casual friends'. And I didn't take that to mean ya two had been fuck buddies - although I know ya were. I'm pissed because ya had something that I want and it didn't really mattered to ya. And Harry's dead and I'll never have the chance with him." _Shit_. Eggsy hadn't intended to say anything about Harry to Caffrey, but now he's spilled everything, in less than a goddamned hour since meeting the man. Good thing he ain't wearing his glasses, otherwise Merlin and company would shit their collective pants, and not just because he's dropped back into his estuary accent.

"And for the record, I'm not a damn homophobe, I'm bisexual and not ashamed of that in the least."

Caffrey has the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry, I've always had a bit of a blind spot when it comes to spotting a member of the tribe, so to speak." 

"Really?" Eggsy finds that hard to believe, given Caffrey's well-proven ability to read people, even the best that Kingsman has to offer.

Caffrey ducks his head in embarrassment. "First day on the job with the FBI, I thought my handler's probie - probationary agent - had been flirting with me. I'd been wearing a vintage trilby and I'd told him she dug the hat and Peter very blithely said that she'd rather be wearing the hat. Thanks to Diana, I've gotten better at seeing a woman's orientation, but when it comes to male bisexuals, I'm still mostly clueless. The old adage about takes one to know one doesn't seem to apply to me in this situation."

Caffrey looks so abashed that Eggsy finds it impossible to stay angry, at least about the homophobe comment. He's still pissed off about everything else. "Come on, let's go to the library."

They go the long way around, through the parts of HQ that are usually closed off to the candidates - the administrative offices, the first level of the Quartermaster's offices where agents are issued more durable supplies than the ones found in Fitting Room Three, and up to the agent's residential quarters. Eggsy stops them in front of the room bearing the plaque "Tristan".

"These are your quarters. Ya get a decent redecorating budget, but Kingsman's already replaced the mattress and linens and stuff. You don't have to sleep in a dead man's bed."

"Nice. By the way, do you know what happened to the last Tristan? I never thought to ask Merlin about him."

"Lost his head on V-Day." Tristan had been one of the three Kingsman that Chester had brought over to the dark side.

Caffrey frowns. "Someone chopped his head off?"

"You have to know about the exploding heads. All the people who had been under Valentine's so-called protection?"

"Oh. The traitors, you mean."

"Yeah, the traitors. The last Tristan had thrown his lot in with Valentine. So had the last Gawaine and Gaharis. And Arthur, for that matter. But he didn't live long enough to lose his head." Eggsy pauses for a dramatic beat. "I killed him."

Now Eggsy regrets not having his glasses on, because the look he gets from Caffrey - awe, respect, and horror, is worth saving. "Wow."

"Killed Valentine, too. Saved the world, got to shag a princess in the bum afterwards." Eggsy figures that he might as well tell Caffrey everything, because the man's going to hear it from the other knights, sooner than later.

Neal doesn't seem to care about Valentine. He focuses on what's important. "Which princess?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Eggsy half hopes that Caffrey presses him, so he can use one of Harry's sayings about what a real gentleman would do. Or maybe punch him in that perfect face. 

But he's bound for disappointment, all Caffrey says is, "Good."

They finally make it to the library. Kay is holding court with Lamorak and Bedivere; to Eggsy's annoyance, the three men ensconced in Eggsy's favorite corner, at least until Kay brings the other two knights over for an introduction. Eggsy lets Kay do the pretty, since he'd been the one who'd escorted Neal from the shop to HQ this morning. It's fascinating to watch Caffrey interact with the other agents; the man is the very definition of charming. Eggsy wonders if this is Caffrey's natural behavior or if it's something he'd studied and mimicked from other people. Eggsy's not like that at all; he's prickly and defensive and inclined to be closed off with strangers unless friendliness is part of mission parameters. 

But when Bedivere starts quizzing Neal about his time in prison, his tone slightly snide, there's a subtle change in Neal's behavior. He's still charming, but it now seems studied, like he's making a deliberate effort to impress the three men with his affability. But his body language is off, Neal's closed himself off, putting his hands in his pockets and taking the smallest step back. The distance isn't great, but it's telling. And his voice betrays some of his distaste; it tone isn't exactly icy, but now he sounds like a poncy toff instead of a real human being. "Prison? I'd say it's much like public school. Terminally boring, terrible food, the uniforms designed in the last century, and lots of emphasis on physical exercise."

Bedivere and the others laugh; Bedivere claps Neal on the shoulder, and it seems that Neal has passed yet another test and is now part of the in-crowd.

Eggsy doesn't have anything against Kay or Lamorak, but he finds Bedivere to be a little bit too much like Chester King and would prefer not to spend any more time in his company than necessary. It's not hard to manufacture an exit plan. Eggsy pulls out his phone and pretends to read a non-existent text before announcing, "I've got to go down to the kennels. Looks like JB's gotten himself into trouble again." Dogs are always a good excuse to get out of an awkward situation - something Harry had shared with him that last night. "Neal, I'll leave you in good hands and see you for the big moment at four." 

But Neal seems to have other plans. "Mind if I go to the kennels with you? I love dogs. Do you think there's any chance there'll be a spare puppy or two I could have?" 

Eggsy doesn't know what game Neal's now playing, but he can't come up with a plausible reason to deny the request. "Don't know, but come on. I'll vouch for you with the kennel master."

Neal makes a production of shaking everyone's hand again before falling into step next to Eggsy. They are halfway to the kennels when Neal says, "I think you like those three even less than you like me."

Eggsy doesn’t bother to deny it. "It's mostly Bedivere I can't stand. But the other two can be real wankers without trying too hard. I guess I was that obvious?"

"Only if you're looking for it."

"You don't seem to care much for them either. And smooth moves, by the way, how you relieved Bedivere of his watch."

Neal grins and Eggsy can't help but feel like he's just met the real Neal Caffrey. "Ah, but you didn't see me take Lamorak's and Kay's, too." Neal pulls three Bremonts out of his pocket. "How pissed do you think they'll be when they realized what happened?"

"Pretty pissed, I imagine."

"Even more pissed than Merlin will be?"

"You took Merlin's watch, too?" Eggsy can't believe that Neal would have the balls to do that.

"Not his watch, his wallet." Neal reaches into his jacket and takes out a leather billfold. "Do you think there's any chance that Merlin's got a driver's license with his real name in here?"

__

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read and commented and/or left kudos or who's just silently appreciated the story. It's good to be back and have this series running again.


End file.
